Farnham's Travels in the Great Western Prairies, etc., May 21-October 16, 1839, part 1

I drew the carriole in which Smith and myself were attempting to sleep, close to the Santa Fé waggons, secured the curtains as firmly as I was able to do, spread blankets over the top and around the sides, and lashed them firmly with ropes passing over, under, and around the carriage in every direction; but to little use. The penetrating powers of that storm were not resisted by such means. Again we were thoroughly drenched. The men in the tent fared still worse than ourselves. It was blown down with the first blast; and the poor fellows were obliged to lie closely and hold on strongly to prevent it and themselves from a flight less safe than parachuting.

On the morning of the 24th, having given Smith in charge of my excellent Lieutenant, with assurance that I would join him at the "Crossings," I left them with the traders, and started with the remainder of my company for the Arkansas.

The buffalo during the last three days had covered the whole country so completely, that it appeared oftentimes extremely dangerous even for the immense cavalcade of the Santa Fé traders to attempt to break its way through them. We travelled at the rate of fifteen miles a day. The length of sight on either side of the trail, 15 miles; on both sides, 30 miles: – 15×3=45×30=1,350 square miles of country, so thickly covered with these noble animals, that when viewed from a height, it scarcely afforded a sight of a square league of its surface. What a quantity of food for the sustenance of the Indian and the white pilgrim of these plains! It would have been gratifying to have seen the beam kick over the immense frames of some of those bulls. But all that any of us could do, was to 'guess' or 'reckon' their weight, and contend about the indubitable certainty of our several suppositions. In these disputes, two butchers took the lead; and the substance of their discussions that could interest the reader is, "that many of the large bulls would weigh 3,000 pounds and upwards; and that, as a general rule, the buffalo were much larger and heavier than the domesticated cattle of the States." We were in view of the Arkansas at four o'clock, P. M. The face of the earth was visible again; for the buffalo were now seen in small herds only, fording the river, or feeding upon the bluffs. Near nightfall we killed a young bull, and went into camp for the night.

On the 25th we moved slowly along up the bank of the river. Having travelled ten miles, one of the men shot an antelope, and we went into camp, to avoid if possible another storm that was lowering upon us from the north-west; but in spite of this precaution, we were again most uncomfortably drenched.

On the 26th we struck across a southern bend in the river, and made the Santa Fé "Crossings" at four o'clock, P. M.; 27th. we lay at the "Crossings," waiting for the Santa Féäns, and our wounded companion.[46 - For the Crossings see our volume xix, p. 218, note 54. The trading caravans proceeded by the Cimarron route, while Farnham's party took the mountain trail. – Ed.] On this day a mutiny, which had been ripening ever since Smith was wounded, assumed a clear aspect. It now appeared that certain individuals of my company had determined to leave Smith to perish in the encampment where he was shot; but failing in supporters of so barbarous a proposition, they now endeavoured to accomplish their design by less objectionable means. They said it was evident, if Smith remained in the company, it must be divided; for that they, pure creatures, could no longer associate with so impure a man. And that, in order to preserve the unity of the company, they would propose that arrangements should be made with the Santa Féäns to take him along with them. In this wish a majority of the company, induced by a laudable desire for peace, and the preservation of our small force entire, in a country filled with Indian foes, readily united. I was desired to make the arrangement; but my efforts proved fruitless. The traders were of the opinion that it would be hazardous for Smith, destitute of the means of support, to trust himself among a people of whose language he was ignorant, and among whom he could consequently get no employment; farther, that Smith had a right to expect protection from his comrades; and they would not, by any act of theirs, relieve them from so sacred a duty. I reported to my company this reply, and dwelt at length upon the reasons assigned by the traders.

The mutineers were highly displeased with the strong condemnation contained in them, of their intention to desert him; and boldly proposed to leave Smith in the carriole, and secretly depart for the mountains. Had we done this inhuman act, I have no doubt that he would have been treated with great humanity and kindness, till he should have recovered from his wound. But the meanness of the proposition to leave a sick companion on the hands of those who had shown us unbounded kindness, and in violation of the solemn agreement we had all entered into on the frontier of Missouri – "to protect each other to the last extremity" – was so manifest, as to cause C. Wood, Jourdan, Oakley, J. Wood, and Blair, to take open and strong grounds against it. They declared, that "however unworthy Smith might be, we could neither leave him to be eaten by wolves, nor to the mercy of strangers; and that neither should be done while they had life to prevent it."

Having thus ascertained that I could rely upon the cooperation of these men, two of the company made a litter, on which the unfortunate man might be borne between two mules. In the afternoon of the 28th, I went down to the traders, five miles below us, to bring him up to my camp. The traders generously refused to receive anything for the use of their carriage, and furnished Smith, when he left them, with every little comfort in their power for his future use. It was past sunset when we left their camp. Deep darkness soon set in, and we lost our course among the winding bluffs. But as I had reason to suppose that my presence in the camp the next morning with Smith was necessary to his welfare, I drove on till three o'clock in the morning. It was of no avail: the darkness hid heaven and earth from view. We therefore halted, tied the mules to the wheels of the carriage, and waited for the sight of morning. When it came, we found that we had travelled during the night at one time up and at another time down the stream, and were then within a mile and a half of the trader's camp.

On reaching my encampment, I found every thing ready for marching, sent back the carriole to its owners, and attempted to swing Smith in his litter for the march; but to our great disappointment, it would not answer the purpose. How it was possible to convey him, appeared an inquiry of the most painful importance. We deliberated long; but an impossibility barred every attempt to remove its difficulties. We had no carriage; we could not carry him upon our shoulders; it seemed impossible for him to ride on horseback; the mutineers were mounted; the company was afraid to stay longer in the vicinity of the Cumanche Indians, with so many animals to tempt them to take our lives; the Santa Fé waggons were moving over the hills ten miles away on the other side of the river; I had adjured the command, and had no control over the movements of the company; two of the individuals who had declared for mercy towards Smith had gone with the traders;[47 - From the later narrative it is apparent that these were Chauncey Wood and Quinn Jordan. – Ed.] there was but one course left – one effort that could be made; he must attempt to ride an easy, gentle mule. If that failed, those who had befriended him would not then forsake him.

About eleven o'clock, therefore, on the 29th, Smith being carefully mounted on a pacing mule, our faces were turned to Bent's trading post, one hundred and sixty miles up the Arkansas. One of the principal mutineers, a hard-faced villain of no honest memory among the traders upon the Platte, assumed to guide and command. His malice towards Smith was of the bitterest character, and he had an opportunity now of making it felt. With a grin upon his long and withered physiognomy, that shadowed out the fiendish delight of a heart long incapable of better emotions, he drove off at a rate which none but a man in health could have long endured. His motive for this was easily understood. If we fell behind, he would get rid of the wounded man, whose presence seemed to be a living evidence of his murderous intentions, thwarted and cast back blistering upon his already sufficiently foul character. He would, also, if rid of those persons who had devoted themselves to saving him, be able to induce a large number of the remainder of the company to put themselves under his especial guardianship in their journey through the mountains; and if we should be destroyed by the Cumanche Indians who were prowling around our way, the blackness of his heart might be hidden, awhile at least, from the world.

The rapid riding, and the extreme warmth, well-nigh prostrated the remaining strength of the invalid. He fainted once, and had nearly fallen headlong to the ground; but all this was delight to the self-constituted leader; and on he drove, belabouring his own horse unmercifully to keep up the pace; and quoting Richard's soliloquy with a satisfaction and emphasis, which seemed to say "the winter" of his discontent had passed away, as well as that of his ancient prototype in villany.

The buffalo were seldom seen during the day: the herds now becoming fewer and smaller. Some of the men, when it was near night, gave chase to a small band near the track, and succeeded in killing a young bull. A fine fresh steak, and night's rest, cheered the invalid for the fatigues of a long ride the following day. And a long one it was. Twenty-five miles under a burning sun, with a high fever, and three broken ribs, required the greatest attention from his friends, and the exertion of the utmost remaining energies of the unfortunate man. Base though he was in everything that makes a man estimable and valuable to himself and others, Smith was really an object of pity and the most assiduous care. His couch was spread – his cup of water fresh from the stream, was always by his side – and his food prepared in the most palatable manner which our circumstances permitted. Everything indeed that his friends (no, not his friends, for he was incapacitated to attach either the good or the bad to his person, but those who commiserated his condition), could do, was done to make him comfortable.

In connexion with this kindness bestowed on Smith, should be repeated the name of Blair, an old mechanic from Missouri, who joined my company at the Crossings of the Arkansas. A man of a kinder heart never existed. From the place where he joined us to Oregon Territory, when I or others were worn with fatigue, or disease, or starvation, he was always ready to administer whatever relief was in his power. But towards Smith in his helpless condition he was especially obliging. He dressed his wound daily. He slept near him at night, and rose to supply his least want. And in all the trying difficulties that occurred along our perilous journey, it was his greatest delight to diffuse peace, comfort, and contentment, to the extent of his influence. I can never forget the good old man. He had been cheated out of his property by a near relative of pretended piety, and had left the chosen scenes of his toils and hopes in search of a residence in the wilderness beyond the mountains. For the purpose of getting to the Oregon Territory, he had hired himself to a gentleman of the traders' caravan, with the intention of going to the country by the way of New Mexico and California. An honest man – an honourable man – a benevolent, kind, sympathizing friend – he deserves well of those who may have the good fortune to become acquainted with his unpretending worth.[48 - W. Blair was a millwright, and upon reaching Oregon found employment in Spaulding's mill at the Lapwai mission. Afterwards he went to the Willamette, and finally emigrated to California, where he died. – Ed.]

On the 30th, twenty-five miles up the river. – This morning the miscreant who acted as leader exchanged horses, that he might render it more difficult for Smith to keep in company. During the entire day's march, Shakspeare was on the tapis. If there be ears of him about the ugly world, to hear his name bandied by boobies, and his immortal verse mangled by barbarians in civilized clothing, those ears stood erect, and his dust crawled with indignation, as this savage in nature and practice discharged from his polluted mouth the inspirations of his genius.

The face of the country was such as that found ever since we struck the river. Long sweeping bluffs swelled away from the water's edge into the boundless plains. The soil was a composition of sand, clay, and gravel – the only vegetation – the short furzy grass, several kinds of prickly pear, a stinted growth of sun-flower, and a few decrepid cotton-wood trees on the margin of the stream. The south side of the river was blackened by the noisy buffalo. It was amusing when our trail led us near the bank, to observe the rising wrath of the bulls. They would walk with a stately tread upon the verge of the bank, at times almost yelling out their rage, and trampling, pawing, falling upon their knees, and tearing the earth with their horns; till, as if unable to keep down the safety-valve of their courage any longer, they would tumble into the stream, and thunder, and wade, and swim, and whip the waters with their tails, and thus throw off a quantity of their bravery. But, like the wrath and courage of certain members of the biped race, these manifestations were not bullet proof, for the crack of a rifle, and the snug fit of a bullet about their ribs operated instantaneously as an anodyne to all such like nervous excitation.

We pitched our tent at night near the river. There was no timber near; but after a long and tedious search we gathered fire-wood enough to make our evening fire.

The fast riding of the day had wearied Smith exceedingly. An hour's rest in camp however, had restored him, to such an extent, that our anxiety as to his ability to ride to Bent's was much diminished. His noble mule proved too nimble and easy to gratify the malice of the vagabond leader. The night brought us its usual tribute – a storm. It was as severe as any we had experienced. If we may distinguish between the severities of these awful tumults of nature, the thunder was heavier, deeper. The wind also was very severe. It came in long gusts, loaded with large drops of rain, which struck through the canvas of our tent, as if it had been gauze.

The last day of June gave us a lovely morning. The grass looked green upon the flinty plains. Nor did the apparent fact that they were doomed to the constant recurrence of long draughts take from them some of the interest which gathers around the hills and dales within the lines of the States. There is indeed a wide difference in the outline of the surface and the productions of these regions. In the plains are none of the evergreen ridges, the cold clear springs, and snug flowering valleys of New England; none of the pulse of busy men that beats from the Atlantic through the great body of human industry to the western border of the republic; none of the sweet villages and homes of the old Saxon race; but there are the vast savannahs, resembling molten seas of emerald sparkling with flowers, arrested while stormy and heaving, and fixed in eternal repose. Nor are lowing herds to be found there, and bleating flocks, which dependance on man has rendered subservient to his will; but there are thousands of fleet and silent antelope, myriads of the bellowing buffalo, the perpetual patrimony of the wild, uncultivated red man. And however other races may prefer the haunts of their childhood, the well-fenced domain and the stall-pampered beast – still, even they cannot fail to perceive the same fitness of things in the beautiful adaptation of these conditions of nature to the wants and pleasures of her uncultivated lords.

We made fifteen miles on the 1st of July. The bluffs along the river began now to be striped with strata of lime and sand-stone. No trees that could claim the denomination of timber appeared in sight. Willows of various kinds, a cotton-wood tree, at intervals of miles, were all; and so utterly sterile was the whole country that, as night approached, we were obliged carefully to search along the river's bends for a plat of grass of sufficient size to feed our animals. Our encampment was twelve miles above Choteau's Island.[49 - For Chouteau's Island see our volume xix, p. 185, note 26. – Ed.] Here was repeated, for the twentieth time, the quarrel about the relative and moral merits of the company. This was always a question of deep interest with the mutineers; and many were the amusing arguments adduced and insisted upon as incontestible, to prove themselves great men, pure men, and saints. But as there was much difference of opinion, I shall not be expected to remember all the important judgments rendered in the premises.

If, however, my recollection serves me, it was adjudged, that our distinguished leader was the only man among us that ever saw the plains or mountains, the only one of us that ever drove an ox-waggon up the Platte, stole a horse and rifle from his employers, opened and plundered a "cache" of goods, and ran back to the States with well-founded pretensions to an "honest character."

Matters of this kind being thus satisfactorily settled, we gave ourselves to the musquitoes for the night. These companions of our sleeping hours were much attached to us – an amiable quality which "runs in the blood;" and not unlike the birthright virtues of another race in its effect upon our happiness.

It can scarcely be imparting information to my readers to say that we passed a sleepless night. But it is due to the guards outside the tent, to remark, that each and every one of them manifested the most praiseworthy vigilance, and industry, during the entire night. So keen a sense of duty did musquito beaks impart.

The next day we travelled twelve miles, and fell in with a band of buffalo. There being a quantity of wood near at hand wherewithal to cure meat, we determined to dry, in this place, what might be needed, till we should fall in with buffalo again beyond the hunting-grounds of the Messrs. Bents. Some of the men, for this purpose, filed off to the game, while the remainder formed the encampment. The chase was spirited and long. They succeeded, however, in bringing down two noble bullocks: and led their horses in, loaded with the choicest meat.

In preparing and jerking our meat, our man of the stolen rifle here assumed extraordinary powers in the management of affairs. Like other braves, arm in hand, he recounted the exploits of his past life, consisting of the entertainment of serious intentions to have killed some of the men who had left, had they remained with us; and also, of how dangerous his wrath would have been in the settlements and elsewhere, had any indignity been offered to his honourable person, or his plantation; of which latter he held the fee simple title of a "squatter." On this point, "let any man, or Government even," said he, "attempt to deprive me of my inborn rights, and my rifle shall be the judge between us. Government and laws! what are they but impositions upon the freeman." With this ebullition of wrath at the possibility that the institutions of society might demand of him a rifle, or the Government a price of a portion of the public lands in his possession, he appeared satisfied that he had convinced us of his moral acumen, and sat himself down, with his well-fed and corpulent coadjutor, to slice the meat for drying. While thus engaged, he again raised the voice of wisdom. "These democratic parties for the plains, what are they? what is equality any where? A fudge. One must rule; the rest obey, and no grumbling, by G – !"

The mutineers were vastly edified by these timely instructions; and the man of parts ceasing to speak, directed his attention to drying the meat. He, however, soon broke forth again, found fault with every arrangement which had been made, and with his own mighty arm wrought the changes he desired.

Meanwhile, he was rousing the fire, already burning fiercely, to more and more activity, till the dropping grease blazed, and our scaffold of meat was wrapped in flames.

"Take that meat off," roared he. No one obeyed, and he stood still. "Take that meat off," he cried again, with the emphasis and mien of an Emperor; not deigning himself to soil his rags, by obeying his own command. No one obeyed. The meat burned rapidly. His ire waxed high; yet, no one was so much frightened as to heed his command. At length his sublime forbearance had an end. The great man seized the blazing meat, dashed it upon the ground, raised the temperature of his fingers to the blistering point, and rested from his labours.

Three days more fatiguing travel along the bank of the Arkansas brought us to the trading-post of the Messrs. Bents. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon of the 5th of July, when we came in sight of its noble battlements, and struck our caravan into a lively pace down the swell of the neighbouring plain. The stray mules that we had in charge belonging to the Bents, scented their old grazing ground, and galloped cheerfully onward. And our hearts, relieved from the anxieties which had made our camp for weeks past a travelling Babel, leaped for joy as the gates of the fort were thrown open; and "welcome to Fort William" – the hearty welcome of fellow-countrymen in the wild wilderness, greeted us. Peace again – roofs again – safety again from the winged arrows of the savage; relief again from the depraved suggestions of inhumanity; bread, ah! bread again: and a prospect of a delightful tramp over the snowy heights between me and Oregon, with a few men of true and generous spirit, were some of the many sources of pleasure which struggled with my slumbers on the first night's tarry among the hospitalities of "Fort William."[50 - For a brief history of this post see our volume xx, p. 138, note 92; see also post, chapter iv. A cut of the fort may be seen in J. T. Hughes, Doniphan's Expedition (Cincinnati, 1847), p. 35. Frémont visited there in 1844 and speaks of the hospitable treatment accorded him. In the palmy days of the fur-trade the Bents employed from eighty to a hundred men who made their headquarters at this post. – Ed.]

My company was to disband here; the property held in common to be divided; and each individual to be left to his own resources. And while these and other things are being done, the reader will allow me to introduce him to the Great Prairie Wilderness, and the beings and matters therein contained.

CHAPTER III

The Great Prairie Wilderness – Its Rivers and Soil – Its People and their Territories – Choctaws – Chickasaws – Cherokees – Creeks – Senecas and Shawnees – Seminoles – Pottawatamies – Weas – Pionkashas – Peorias and Kaskaskias – Ottowas – Shawnees or Shawanoes – Delawares – Kausaus – Kickapoos – Sauks and Foxes – Iowas – Otoes – Omehas – Puncahs – Pawnees, remnants – Carankauas – Cumanche, remnants – Knistineaux – Naudowisses or Sioux – Chippeways, and their traditions.

The tract of country to which I have thought it fitting to apply the name of the "Great Prairie Wilderness," embraces the territory lying between the States of Louisiana, Arkansas, and Missouri, and the Upper Mississippi on the east, and the Black Hills, and the eastern range of the Rocky and the Cordilleras mountains on the west. One thousand miles of longitude, and two thousand miles of latitude, 2,000,000 square miles, equal to 1,280,000,000 acres of an almost unbroken plain! The sublime Prairie Wilderness!

The portion of this vast region, two hundred miles in width, along the coast of Texas and the frontier of the States of Louisiana, Arkansas, and Missouri, and that lying within the same distance of the Upper Mississippi in the Iowa Territory, possess a rich, deep, alluvial soil, capable of producing the most abundant crops of grains, vegetables, &c., that grow in such latitudes.

Another portion lying west of the irregular western line of that just described, five hundred miles in width, extending from the mouth of St. Peter's River to the Rio del Norte, is an almost unbroken plain, destitute of trees, except here and there one scattered at intervals for many miles along the banks of the streams. The soil, except the intervals of some of the rivers, is composed of coarse sand and clay, so thin and hard that it is difficult for travellers to penetrate it with the stakes they carry with them wherewithal to fasten their animals or spread their tents. Nevertheless it is covered thickly with an extremely nutritious grass peculiar to this region of country, the blades of which are wiry and about two inches in height.

The remainder of this Great Wilderness, lying three hundred miles in width along the eastern radices of the Black Hills and that part of the Rocky Mountains between the Platte and the Cordilleras-range east of the Rio del Norte, is the arid waste usually called the "Great American Desert."[51 - See on this subject our volume xvi, p. 174, note 81. – Ed.] Its soil is composed of dark gravel mixed with the sand. Some small portions of it, on the banks of the streams, are covered with tall prairie and bunch grass; others, with wild wormwood; but even these kinds of vegetation decrease and finally disappear as you approach the mountains. It is a scene of desolation scarcely equalled on the continent, when viewed in the dearth of midsummer from the base of the hills. Above, rise in sublime confusion, mass upon mass, shattered cliffs through which is struggling the dark foliage of stinted shrub-cedars; while below you spreads far and wide the burnt and arid desert, whose solemn silence is seldom broken by the tread of any other animal than the wolf or the starved and thirsty horse which bears the traveller across its wastes.

The principal streams that intersect the Great Prairie wilderness are the Colorado, the Brazos, Trinity, Red, Arkansas, Great Platte and the Missouri. The latter is in many respects a noble stream; not so much so indeed for the intercourse it opens between the States and the plains, as the theatre of agriculture and the other pursuits of a densely populated and distant interior; for these plains are too barren for general cultivation. As a channel for the transportation of heavy artillery, military stores, troops, &c. to posts that must ultimately be established along our northern frontier, it will be of the highest use.

In the months of April, May, and June it is navigable for steamboats to the Great Falls; but the scarcity of water during the remainder of the year, as well as the scarcity of wood and coal along its banks, its steadily rapid current, its tortuous course, its falling banks, timber imbedded in the mud of its channel, and its constantly shifting sand bars, will ever prevent its waters from being extensively navigated, how great soever may be the demand for it. In that part of it which lies above the mouth of the Little Missouri and the tributaries flowing into it on either side, are said to be many charming and productive valleys, separated from each other by secondary rocky ridges sparsely covered with evergreen trees; and high over all, far in south-west, west and north-west, tower into view, the ridges of the Rocky Mountains, whose inexhaustible magazines of ice and snow have, from age to age, supplied these valleys with refreshing springs – and the Missouri – the Great Platte – the Columbia – and Western Colorado rivers with their tribute to the seas.

Lewis and Clark, on their way to Oregon in 1805, made the Portage at the Great Falls eighteen miles. In this distance the water descends three hundred and sixty-two feet. The first great pitch is ninety-eight feet, the second nineteen, the third forty-eight, and the fourth twenty-six. Smaller rapids make up the remainder of the descent. After passing over the Portage with their boats and baggage, they again entrusted themselves to the turbulent stream – entered the chasms of the Rocky Mountains seventy-one miles above the upper rapids of the Falls, penetrated them one hundred and eighty miles, with the mere force of their oars against the current, to Gallatin, Madison and Jefferson's Forks – and in the same manner ascended Jefferson's River two hundred and forty-eight miles to the extreme head of navigation, making from the mouth of the Missouri, whence they started, three thousand and ninety-six miles; four hundred and twenty-nine of which lay among the sublime crags and cliffs of the mountains.[52 - Farnham is quoting from the Biddle (1814) edition of the journals of Lewis and Clark. Consult R. G. Thwaites, Original Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition (New York, 1903-05), ii, pp. 159-339. – Ed.]

The Great Platte has a course by its northern fork of about one thousand five hundred miles; and by its southern fork somewhat more than that distance; from its entrance into the Missouri to the junction of these forks about four hundred miles. The north fork rises in Wind River Mountain, north of the Great Pass through Long's range of the Rocky Mountains, in latitude 42° north.[53 - For the sources of North Platte see James's Long's Expedition, our volume xv, pp. 234-236, with accompanying note. – Ed.] The south fork rises one hundred miles west of James Peak, and within fifteen miles of the point where the Arkansas escapes from the chasms of the mountains, in latitude 39° north.[54 - Long's expedition of 1819-20 followed the South Platte nearly to its source. See our volume xv, pp. 241-305, especially p. 292, note 141. James's Peak was the name bestowed by Long upon what is now known as Pike's Peak, because Dr. Edwin James was the first to make the ascent. Frémont restored the name of Pike in 1843. See our volume xvi, pp. 11-36, especially note 15. – Ed.] This river is not navigable for steamboats at any season of the year. In the spring floods, the batteaux of the American fur traders descend it from the forts on its forks. But even this is so hazardous that they are beginning to prefer taking down their furs in waggons by the way of the Kansas River to Westport, Missouri, thence by steamboat to St. Louis. During the summer and autumn months its waters are too shallow to float a canoe. In the winter it is bound in ice. Useless as it is for purposes of navigation, it is destined to be of great value in another respect.

The overland travel from the States to Oregon and California will find its great highway along its banks. So that in years to come, when the Federal Government shall take possession of its Territory West of the Mountains, the banks of this stream will be studded with fortified posts for the protection of countless caravans of American citizens emigrating thither to establish their abode; or of those that are willing to endure or destroy the petty tyranny of the Californian Government, for a residence in that most beautiful, productive country. Even now, loaded waggons can pass without serious interruption from the mouth of the Platte to navigable waters on the Columbia River in Oregon, and the Bay of San Francisco, in California.[55 - For the first wagons on the Oregon Trail see De Smet's Letters, in our volume xxvii, p. 243, note 116. The Whitman party in 1836 succeeded in conveying wagons as far as Fort Boise, on Lewis River. There is no record that wagons had gone through to Walla Walla at the time of Farnham's journey. – Ed.]

As it may interest my readers to peruse a description of these routes given me by different individuals who had often travelled them, I will insert it: "Land on the north side of the mouth of the Platte; follow up that stream to the Forks, four hundred miles; in this distance only one stream where a raft will be needed, and that near the Missouri; all the rest fordable. At the Forks, take the north side of the North one; fourteen days' travel to the Black Hills; thence leaving the river's bank, strike off in a North-West direction to the Sweetwater branch, at "Independence Rock," (a large rock in the plain on which the old trappers many years ago carved the word "Independence" and their own names; oval in form;) follow up the sweet-water three days; cross it and go to its head; eight or ten days travel this; then cross over westward to the head waters of a small creek running southwardly into the Platte, thence westward to Big Sandy creek two days, (this creek is a large stream coming from Wind river Mountains in the North;) thence one day to Little Sandy creek – thence westward over three or four creeks to Green River, (Indian name Sheetskadee,) strike it at the mouth of Horse creek – follow it down three days to Pilot Bute; thence strike westward one day to Ham's Fork of Green River – two days up Ham's Fork – thence West one day to Muddy Branch of Great Bear River – down it one day to Great Bear River – down this four days to Soda Springs; turn to the right up a valley a quarter of a mile below the Soda Springs; follow it up a north west direction two days to its head; there take the left hand valley leading over the dividing ridge; one day over to the waters of Snake River at Fort Hall;[56 - This is a good brief description of the Oregon Trail as far as Fort Hall. See our volume xxi, Wyeth's Oregon, pp. 52, 53, and notes 32-34; also Townsend's Narrative, pp. 187-211, notes 36, 43, 44, 45, 51. – Ed.] thence down Snake River twenty days to the junction of the Lewis and Clark Rivers – or twenty days travel westwardly by the Mary's River – thence through a natural and easy passage in the California Mountains to the navigable waters of the San Joaquin – a noble stream emptying into the Bay of San Francisco."[57 - This description regarding the California route shows the indefiniteness of the knowledge then current. No one is known to have passed this way save Jedediah S. Smith (1827) and Joseph Walker, sent by Captain Bonneville (1833). When Bidwell and Bartleson went out in 1841, they found no one who could give them detailed information of the route from Fort Hall to California, and they stumbled through the wilderness in great confusion. See John Bidwell, "First Emigrant Train to California," in Century Magazine, xix (new series), pp. 106-129. Mary River is that now known as the Humboldt, which rises a hundred miles west of Great Salt Lake and after a course of nearly three hundred miles west and south-west flows into Humboldt Lake or Sink. This river was originally named Ogden for Peter Skeen Ogden, a Hudson Bay factor, whose Indian wife was known as Mary. The name Humboldt was assigned by Lieutenant Frémont (1845), who does not appear to have connected it with Mary River, which he sought the preceding year. This explorer also proved (1844) that the San Joaquin and other affluents of San Francisco Bay do not "form a natural and easy passage" through the California or Sierra Nevada Mountains. – Ed.]

The Platte therefore when considered in relation to our intercourse with the habitable countries on the Western Ocean assumes an unequal importance among the streams of the Great Prairie Wilderness! But for it, it would be impossible for man or beast to travel those arid plains, destitute alike, of wood, water and grass, save what of each is found along its course. Upon the head waters of its North Fork, too, is the only way or opening in the Rocky mountains at all practicable for a carriage road through them. That traversed by Lewis and Clark, is covered with perpetual snow; that near the debouchure of the South Fork of the river is over high and nearly impassable precipices; that travelled by myself farther south, is, and ever will be impassable for wheel carriages. But the Great Gap, nearly on a right line between the mouth of Missouri and Fort Hall on Clark's River – the point where the trails to California and Oregon diverge – seems designed by nature as the great gateway between the nations on the Atlantic and Pacific seas.[58 - By the "Great Gap" Farnham intends South Pass, for which see Wyeth's Oregon in our volume xxi, p. 58, note 37. – Ed.]

The Red River has a course of about one thousand five hundred miles. It derives its name from a reddish colour of its water, produced by a rich red earth or marl in its banks, far up in the Prairie Wilderness. So abundantly is this mingled with its waters during the spring freshets, that as the floods retire, they leave upon the lands they have overflowed a deposit of half an inch in thickness. Three hundred miles from its mouth commences what is called "The Raft," a covering formed by drift-wood, which conceals the whole river for an extent of about forty miles. And so deeply is this immense bridge covered with the sediment of the stream, that all kinds of vegetable common in its neighbourhood, even trees of a considerable size, are growing upon it. The annual inundations are said to be cutting a new channel near the hill. Steamboats ascend the river to the Raft, and might go fifty leagues above, if that obstruction were removed.[59 - For this obstruction, and the clearing of it, see our volume xvii, p. 70, note 64. – Ed.] Above this latter point the river is said to be embarrassed by many rapids, shallows, falls, and sand-bars. Indeed, for seven hundred miles its broad bed is represented to be an extensive and perfect sand-bar; or rather a series of sand-bars; among which during the summer months, the water stands in ponds. As you approach the mountains, however, it becomes contracted within narrow limits over a gravelly bottom, and a swift, clear, and abundant stream. The waters of the Red River are so brackish when low, as to be unfit for common use.

The Trinity River, the Brazos, and the Rio Colorado, have each a course of about twelve hundred miles, rising in the plains and mountains on the north and north-west side of Texas, and running south south-east into the Gulf of Mexico.

The Rio Bravo del Norte[60 - For this river see Pattie's Personal Narrative in our volume xviii, p. 75, note 45. – Ed.] bounds the Great Prairie Wilderness on the south and south-west. It is one thousand six hundred and fifty miles long. The extent of its navigation is little known. Lieutenant Pike remarks in regard to it, that "for the extent of four or five hundred miles before you arrive near the mountains, the bed of the river is extensive and a perfect sand-bar, which at a certain season is dry, at least the waters stand in ponds, not affording sufficient to procure a running course. When you come nearer the mountains, you find the river contracted, a gravelly bottom and a deep navigable stream. From these circumstances it is evident that the sandy soil imbibes all the waters which the sources project from the mountains, and render the river in dry seasons less navigable five hundred miles, than two hundred from its source." Perhaps we should understand the Lieutenant to mean that five hundred miles of sand bar and two hundred miles immediately below its source being taken from its whole course, the remainder, nine hundred and fifty miles, would be the length of its navigable waters.[61 - For a brief biography of Zebulon M. Pike, see our volume viii, p. 280, note 122. The journals of his expedition have been edited by Elliott Coues, Expeditions of Zebulon M. Pike (New York, 1895). – Ed.]

The Arkansas, after the Missouri, is the most considerable river of the country under consideration. It takes its rise in that cluster of secondary mountains which lie at the eastern base of the Anahuac Ridge, in latitude 41° north – eighty or ninety miles north-west of James Peak. It runs about two hundred miles – first in a southerly and then in a south-easterly direction among these mountains; at one time along the most charming valleys and at another through the most awful chasms – till it rushes from them with a foaming current in latitude 39° north. From the place of its debouchure to its entrance into the Mississippi is a distance of 1981 miles; its total length 2173 miles. About fifty miles below a tributary of this stream, called the Grand Saline,[62 - Anahuac was a native Mexican word originally applied to the low coastal lands, but gradually transferred to the great central plateau of Mexico, with its mountainous ranges. Farnham considers the Rocky Mountain range south of South Pass an integral part of this Mexican system, as it was in his time under the Mexican government.The Grand Saline branch of the Arkansas is probably intended for the Negracka, now called Salt Fork. See our volume xvi, p. 243, note 114. – Ed.] a series of sand-bars commence and run down the river several hundred miles. Among them, during the dry season, the water stands in isolated pools, with no apparent current. But such is the quantity of water sent down from the mountains by this noble stream at the time of the annual freshets, that there is sufficient depth, even upon these bars, to float large and heavy boats; and having once passed these obstructions, they can be taken up to the place where the river escapes from the crags of the mountains. Boats intended to ascend the river, should start from the mouth about the 1st of February. The Arkansas will be useful in conveying munitions of war to our southern frontier. In the dry season, the waters of this river are strongly impregnated with salt and nitre.

There are about 135,000 Indians inhabiting the Great Prairie Wilderness,[63 - This estimate of population would seem to be fair. Compare Gregg's tables in our volume xx, pp. 317-341, notes 204-215, compiled from the report of the Indian commissioner in 1844. – Ed.] of whose social and civil condition, manners and customs, &c. I will give a brief account. It would seem natural to commence with those tribes which reside in what is called "The Indian Territory;" a tract of country bounded south by the Red River, east by the States of Arkansas and Missouri – on the north-east and north by the Missouri and Punch Rivers,[64 - Ponca (Punca) Creek, which in 1837 formed the northern boundary of what was known as "Indian Territory." See our volume xxii, p. 291, note 253. – Ed.] and west by the western limit of habitable country on this side of the Rocky Mountains. This the National Government has purchased of the indigenous tribes at specific prices; and under treaty stipulations to pay them certain annuities in cash, and certain others in facilities for learning the useful arts, and for acquiring that knowledge of all kinds of truth which will, as is supposed, in the end excite the wants, create the industry, and confer upon them the happiness of the civilized state.

These benevolent intentions of Government, however, have a still wider reach. Soon after the English power had been extinguished here, the enlightened men who had raised over its ruins the temples of equal justice, began to make efforts to restore to the Indians within the colonies the few remaining rights that British injustice had left within their power to return; and so to exchange property with them, as to secure to the several States the right of sovereignty within their several limits, and to the Indians, the functions of a sovereign power, restricted in this, that the tribes should not sell their lands to other person or body corporate, or civil authority, beside the Government of the United States; and in some other respects restricted, so as to preserve peace among the tribes, prevent tyranny, and lead them to the greatest happiness they are capable of enjoying.[65 - This is a gratuitous remark. The conduct of the British Government will compare most favourably with that of the United States. The English have not thought of hunting Indians with blood-hounds. – English Ed.]

Various and numerous were the efforts made to raise and ameliorate their condition in their old haunts within the precincts of the States. But a total or partial failure followed them all. In a few cases, indeed, there seemed a certain prospect of final success, if the authorities of the States in which they resided had permitted them to remain where they were. But as all experience tended to prove that their proximity to the whites induced among them more vice than virtue; and as the General Government, before any attempts had been made to elevate them, had become bound to remove them from many of the States in which they resided, both the welfare of the Indians, and the duty of the Government, urged their colonization in a portion of the western domain, where, freed from all questions of conflicting sovereignties, and under the protection of the Union, and their own municipal regulations, they might find a refuge from those influences which threatened the annihilation of their race.

The "Indian Territory" has been selected for this purpose. And assuredly if an inexhaustible soil, producing all the necessaries of life in greater abundance, and with a third less labour than they are produced in the Atlantic States, with excellent water, fine groves of timber growing by the streams, rocky cliffs rising at convenient distances for use among the deep alluvial plains, mines of iron and lead ore and coal, lakes and springs and streams of salt water, and innumerable quantities of buffalo ranging through their lands, are sufficient indications that this country is a suitable dwelling-place for a race of men which is passing from the savage to the civilized condition, the Indian Territory has been well chosen as the home of these unfortunate people. Thither the Government, for the last thirty years, has been endeavouring to induce those within the jurisdiction of the States to emigrate.[66 - See on this subject Gregg's Commerce of the Prairies, in our volume xx, p. 300, note 191. – Ed.]

The Government purchase the land which the emigrating tribes leave – giving them others within the Territory; transport them to their new abode; erect a portion of their dwellings; plough and fence a portion of their fields; furnish them teachers of agriculture, and implements of husbandry, horses, cattle, &c.; erect schoolhouses, and support teachers in them the year round; make provision for the subsistence of those who, by reason of their recent emigration, are unable to support themselves; and do every other act of benevolence necessary to put within their ability to enjoy, not only all the physical comforts that they left behind them, but also every requisite, facility, and encouragement to become a reasoning, cultivated, and happy people.